


Love Among Flowers

by maeung



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Angst, Fluff and Angst, Hanahaki Disease, M/M, author jung jaehyun, pianist kim doyoung
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-02
Updated: 2019-02-02
Packaged: 2019-10-20 20:59:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17629586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maeung/pseuds/maeung
Summary: In a world where hanahaki exists, Jaehyun meets Doyoung while trying to cure the daffodils in his chest.





	Love Among Flowers

**Author's Note:**

> [listen to this playlist while you read, don't shuffle, just listen in the order it's made!](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9E6b3swbnWg&list=PLRhhSkNFPZoIBpLKDAN0Vr3l-2VPtwN_8)   
>  [same playlist but on spotify instead](https://open.spotify.com/user/yeung.melissa/playlist/7poPmIUuJgobIZ2dbyoYrY?si=k7nYN9x7RamI-s2C_SqQ8A)

Everyone knows what hanahaki is. Since the dawn of man, people have marveled over the sad but beautiful petals and blooms that erupt in a person’s chest when they suffer from unrequited love. Michelangelo, Da Vinci, Van Gogh, they all painted tragically delicate flowers spilling gracefully from someone’s mouth. Movies depict an elegant death, amid a bed of lush flowers, and it never fails to bring tears to the eyes of every housewife that watches the movie.

But Jaehyun knows the truth. Hanahaki isn’t a delicate ailment that causes roses to fall fluidly from the person’s lips. It wracks Jaehyun to his core, his chest heaving in pain as he coughs up daffodil after daffodil, the petals falling to the floor and staining the laminated floor red with blood as his lungs are torn apart by foliage. Jaehyun slumps back against a clean white table, his head spinning. He barely registers gloved hands working quickly to scrub away the mess he made as kind hands lift him up and carry him away. He blinks blearily at the white walls and listens to the clinical beeping of the monitor in his room. The door to his room closes gently, and Jaehyun stares at the hospital sheets.

There are clinics now, for hanahaki. Scientists had long ago discovered that if one surgically removes the blooms in someone’s chest then they can cure those afflicted with the disease. However, it came with a price. Or maybe a blessing. After the procedure, all romantic feelings toward that person were eliminated, with no hope of ever forming again. That’s why Jaehyun had checked himself into the Center for Hanahaki Affected Citizens a few days prior.

He hadn’t meant to fall in love with Lee Taeyong, he really hadn’t. Taeyong and he had grown up together, the best of friends. But things changed when they went to college. Jaehyun had started to notice things, like how adorable Taeyong looked in his sweatshirts, how kind and caring he was to others, how he always tried to make Jaehyun feel better. Through all of college, Jaehyun had given himself hope that one day he would confess to Taeyong and everything would be perfect, but the day he finally brought up the courage to do it, Taeyong had burst into his apartment, looking happier than he had ever before. Taeyong spoke of a man he had just met, a man who went by a number because his name was too long. Jaehyun had listened attentively like the good best friend he was, and then he excused himself to the bathroom and coughed up a pale yellow daffodil petal.

Three months later, Jaehyun checked himself into the clinic.

  
  


He had already been there a week, telling Taeyong that he was going on a sabbatical to gain inspiration for his writings, when he found Doyoung. At first, Jaehyun was surprised to see Doyoung there, a man he vaguely remembered as someone on the outskirts of his friend group, someone who he had met through Taeyong and Ten’s relationship. Doyoung seems just as surprised to see Jaehyun there, and he cautiously walks up to where Jaehyun is, hunched over a small leather notebook. “Hey,” Doyoung says.

“Hey,” Jaehyun says, just as awkwardly.

“Weird to see you here.” Doyoung doesn’t look Jaehyun in the eyes, his fingers tapping against his leg. Jaehyun briefly recalls that Doyoung is a professional pianist.

“Yeah, you too,” Jaehyun says.

“What are you writing?” Doyoung asks and sits down next to Jaehyun.

“It’s my novel, I’m an author.” Jaehyun says, he briefly explains the plot, and is pleasantly surprised when Doyoung tells him he loves it. They talk about Jaehyun’s characters for the rest of the afternoon, and never speak of the elephant in the room, not even when Doyoung pauses to cough out a wilted violet.

  
  


The surgery doesn’t happen right away. Although the technology has been around for years, it’s still a very risky procedure and the clinic works hard to make sure everyone is in a healthy condition to undergo the process through a itinerary of well-balanced meals and daily exercise. 

They had just finished their daily walk and Jaehyun sits on a dark piano bench, listening to Doyoung fiddle with the old Steinway the clinic has in their rec room. He watches, amazed as Doyoung’s elegant fingers fly across the keys and the melancholy tones of Chopin ring softly through the air. “He’s my favorite composer.” Doyoung says once he’s done, the last note of Chopin’s Nocturne, Op. 9 No. 2 still ringing in the air.

“Chopin? Why?” Jaehyun asks.

“He’s from the Romantic period,” Doyoung’s fingertips brush across the rim of the piano, tsking when it comes back covered in a thin film of dust. “They’re all about emotional music, and I don’t know, Chopin has this way of expressing sadness in his notes that just resonates with anyone who listens to it.”

“It’s beautiful,” Jaehyun says, and he means it. Doyoung smiles back at him widely.

That night, Jaehyun doesn’t cough up as many daffodil blooms as he usually does.

  
  


They’re sitting on a stone bench, in a small courtyard. Doyoung sits, sadly munching on a carrot while he stares blankly at the plants around them. “I hate it here.”

Jaehyun looks up from his leather-bound notebook, pausing in the middle of a paragraph. “Why?”

“I don’t like all this healthy food,” Doyoung moans, “I just want a cupcake.” Jaehyun laughs, his deep voice ringing through the empty garden. “Plus, we’re confined to this building,” Doyoung brandishes the carrot around, “isn’t it cruel? To keep us inside these walls and even then, the only time we get outside is in this dumbass courtyard. They even grow flowers here!  _ Flowers _ ! That’s just mean.” Doyoung says and glares at a nearby rosebush.

“I guess you’re right,” Jaehyun hums, picking up his pen again, “it is kind of rude.” They settle back into silence, Doyoung squinting up at the clouds.

“Jaehyun?”

“Yes?” Jaehyun says.

“Why are you here?”

“I have hanahaki.” Jaehyun says and Doyoung scowls before swatting at his arm.

“I knew that dipshit. But who are you here for?”

Jaehyun closes his notebook with a sigh, “Lee Taeyong.”

“Oh,” Doyoung says quietly. Then he looks at Jaehyun and bitterly laughs. “Fucking small world, huh?”

“Why are you here?”

“Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul. But you might know him as Ten.” Jaehyun blinks, looking up at Doyoung with surprise.

“Who knew, we’re in love with each other’s best friends, and they’re fucking dating each other.” Doyoung says, and rolls his eyes. “God is rude.” Jaehyun laughs loudly, and Doyoung smiles at him before joining in.

Jaehyun’s chest feels light, for the first time in a long time.

  
  


“Do you believe in the language of flowers?” Jaehyun asks, while Doyoung and him are playing a boring game of chess.

“Huh?” Doyoung asks, his almond eyes scanning the board.

“Like there’s a belief that the flowers someone coughs up symbolizes what kind of feelings you have for that person.”

Doyoung slides his bishop across the board. “Sounds like a load of bullshit.”

“Yeah,” Jaehyun moves a pawn forward. “I have daffodils, which isn’t fun. But it means ‘unrequited love,’ which is basically poetry.”

“I thought you were a novelist, not a poet.” Doyoung steals Jaehyun’s pawn with his knight.

“I dabble,” Jaehyun says, frowning at the board and shifting his rook backwards. “Written a few haikus.”

“I have violets,” Doyoung hesitates, “what does that mean?” He slides his bishop closer to Jaehyun’s king.

“Loyalty and devotion,” Jaehyun slides his king over one space.

“That’s rather cute,” Doyoung hums and moves his queen to infront of Jaehyun’s king. “Checkmate.”

Jaehyun looks down, eyes wide. “God dammit.”

  
  


Jaehyun undergoes the surgery. He doesn’t remember a lot, just waking up and feeling like something is missing. There’s a bouquet of daffodils on his bedside.

Doyoung’s surgery is a few days after Jaehyun, but he won’t be there to see him through it. So Jaehyun packs his things, and walks to the rec room where Doyoung is quietly playing a soft tune.

“What’s that?” Jaehyun asks. Doyoung turns around and glances down at Jaehyun’s suitcase.

“Frank Liszt. It’s called Liebestraum.”

“Liebe-what?”

“It’s Hungarian for Love Dream.” Doyoung says, “are you leaving?”

“Yeah.”

“Well I won’t take up your time.”

“That’s fine, I came to say goodbye.”

Doyoung looks up at him. “Who said we have to say goodbye?”

Jaehyun grins. He leaves with Doyoung’s phone number and a promise to meet again.

  
  


Jaehyun starts keeping a bouquet of daffodils in his apartment. Taeyong and Ten come to visit, unaware of where Jaehyun was. He makes up a wild story in Thailand for them.

“These flowers are beautiful,” Taeyong says, waltzing around Jaehyun’s kitchen to prepare Jaehyun his first home-cooked—and wildly unhealthy—meal in weeks.

“Thanks, I got them to spruce up the place.” Jaehyun says, smiling when he doesn’t feel a pang of pain in his chest when watching Taeyong walk around his home.

“How’s your novel going?” Ten asks, and Jaehyun curtly explains the plot.

Even though Jaehyun was over Taeyong, it didn’t mean he had to like Ten.

Over barbequed pork belly, Ten makes an offhand comment about his best friend returning home after a vacation. Jaehyun hides a smile.

  
  


They meet again in a coffee shop. It’s wildly cliche, but Jaehyun still enjoys it. Doyoung sits down across from him, his cheeks flushed from the biting wind outside. “How have you been?” Jaehyun asks.

“Good,” Doyoung breathes out, warming his hands against the cappuccino Jaehyun bought him.

“Is your recovery going well?”

“Yeah, really well! The doctors said I should be completely healed within the week.”

“Did it work? Did you see Ten?”

“I met up with Chittaphon last night,” Doyoung beams, “no violets.”

Jaehyun breaths out in relief. “Good, because now I can do this.”

“What?” Doyoung asks, cocking his head to the side in confusion.

“Ask you out on a date.”

Doyoung grins, and his face lights up. “I thought we were already on one.”

Jaehyun smiles back, his dimples carving into his face, “we can be if you want to.”

  
  


Doyoung and Jaehyun don’t have a lot of money, but they make do. Dates are mostly nights-in at one of their apartments, cuddled together on Jaehyun’s old couch or Doyoung’s futon, Jaehyun typing on his laptop while Doyoung revises some sheet music. Doyoung works as a private composition teacher at the local community college, and he always has some complaint about his students. “Do you see this?” Doyoung exclaims one day, “this guy used C sharp major! Who even does that?”

“I don’t know what that means, darling.”

“You don’t have to,” Doyoung pouts and leans back onto Jaehyun’s shoulder, wrapping his long legs over Jaehyun’s, “just know it’s ridiculous.”

“Of course darling.”

Sometimes though, they like to splurge on date nights. They’re walking through the park now, having gone out to watch a movie, soft fairy lights twinkling above them that had been strung up in celebration of a nearby festival. The night sky washes above them and snow crunches beneath their feet. Doyoung shivers, burying his face into his thick scarf. Jaehyun reaches down and grabs one of Doyoung’s hands, wrapping it around his before tucking it into his pocket. Doyoung sighs at the warmth. His fingers are rough, calloused with years of classical piano. “Doyoung?”

“Yeah Jae?” Doyoung says and looks over and slightly up, his face twisting in annoyance at the two centimeter difference between them.

“Am I good enough for you?”

Doyoung’s eyes widen, “of course you are! Why are you asking?”

“You deserve so much more. I’m just a broke author, and I can’t give you the world like how I want to.”

“Well I’m a broke piano player.” Doyoung says, “we’re perfect for each other. We can disappoint our parents with our jobs together.”

“I just wish I could provide more for you.”

“Oh Jae,” Doyoung sighs, and pauses, wrapping his other arm around Jaehyun, forcing him to stop and look back at him, chest-to-chest. “Don’t ever feel like that. Relationships are about being equal, without one being dependent on the other. I would feel terrible if I was just totally relying on you for everything,” Doyoung says quietly, “I love you, everything about you. Just being with you is the best gift I could ever receive.”

Jaehyun smiles softly, “I love you too,” he says, under the soft yellow glow of the fairy lights. “But there’s at least one gift I’d like to give you.”

“What is it?” Doyoung asks.

“This,” Jaehyun says, and dips his head down, capturing Doyoung’s lips. Doyoung’s hands fly up to Jaehyun’s rosy cheeks, two smiles pressed against each other.

  
  


“Do you want to move in together?” Jaehyun asks one day while he’s digging through his kitchen cabinets, looking for something to make dinner with. Jaehyun hears a clatter behind him and he turns to look at Doyoung, plate having slipped through his grasp onto the table. Jaehyun’s mind starts to whir, spinning at a mile-a-minute. “I mean, we don’t have to-”

“We’ll have to find somewhere for the piano.” Doyoung says, calmly picking up the plate, “and you’re going to have to clear out space in your dresser.”

  
  


Once Doyoung moves in, Jaehyun starts bringing home flowers. “What are these?” Doyoung asks, fingers brushing over the tiny purple blossoms.

“Heliotropes,” Jaehyun says, arranging the delicate bouquet in a water glass, “it means everlasting love.”

“You and your flower meanings,” Doyoung says softly, moving behind Jaehyun to peck the back of his neck. “How’s the novel?”

“Pretty good, I sent it to a few editors and I’m just waiting for word back now,” Jaehyun sighs, and flops down on the couch. On the left wall next to him, is the biggest sign that Doyoung has now moved in, his black Yamaha upright piano staring back at him. Jaehyun picks up the sheet music on the coffee table, “what are you working on now?”

Doyoung walks over and snatches up the papers, “Clair de Lune by Claude Debussy,” he says and reorganizes the papers into a neat stack. “We need to tidy up.”

“Why?” Jaehyun asks, he just wants to curl up in a ball on the sofa while Doyoung plays Debussy.

“Chittaphon is coming over, and he can’t see that we live in a pigsty.”

Jaehyun frowns, “it’s not a pigsty, it’s chaotically organized. And are you sure Ten should come over?”

Doyoung rolls his eyes, “yes. No arguing, I haven’t seen him in a few days.”

“Then one more wouldn’t hurt,” Jaehyun whines.

Doyoung rolls up his sheet music and smacks Jaehyun over the head with it. He ignores Jaehyun’s cry. “I really don’t get what your hatred of Chittaphon is about, but please get over it, he’s my best friend.”

Jaehyun doesn’t know how to explain his fear of Doyoung seeing the man that turned his lungs into a garden, coughing up piles of violets in a pool of blood. “Fine.”  _ He stole my first love, how do I know he won’t steal the second _ ?

_ It’s impossible, Jaehyun _ . He tells himself.  _ The surgery worked _ .

_ Then why do I still feel so unsure _ ?

  
  


“Doyoung!” Jaehyun screams, bursting into the apartment. Doyoung looks up from the piano, startled, and the soft tones of Debussy halt.

“What?” Doyoung stands up, looking at Jaehyun worriedly.

“The editors,” Jaehyun pants, “one of them got back to me,” He shoves his phone into Doyoung’s face, showing him an email. “I’m getting published!”

“Oh my god!” Doyoung yells, and throws Jaehyun’s phone on the couch before jumping onto Jaehyun. His hands fly up, gripping onto Doyoung’s thighs to stop him from falling. Doyoung grasps Jaehyun’s face, sliding kisses over his forehead, cheeks, and lips. “I’m so happy for you!”

“Darling,” Jaehyun says between kisses, “one more thing.”

“What?” Doyoung asks, excitement in his eyes.

“My book,” Jaehyun says, leaning his head forward to kiss the junction where Doyoung’s throat meets his chin, and Doyoung arches his neck back. “It’s dedicated to you.” Jaehyun set’s Doyoung onto the kitchen countertop, almost knocking over the bouquet of heliotropes, one hand moving up to tug Doyoung’s t-shirt collar down so Jaehyun can start to leave sloppy kisses against his collarbone.

“Oh-” Doyoung moans. Jaehyun uses his other hand to tilt Doyoung’s chin down and connect their lips.

“To my darling,” Jaehyun punctuates every word with a kiss, “Kim Doyoung. I would have never finished this without you,” Doyoung threads his fingers in his hair, “thank you, my eternal love.”

“Jaehyun,” Doyoung pants, and Jaehyun pulls back to stare into Doyoung’s eyes, his chest panting and nose bridge dusted with red. Doyoung stares at Jaehyun with so much love, Jaehyun’s heart almost bursts, “let’s take this to the bedroom.”

“Yeah?” Jaehyun asks, his hands sliding down.

“Yeah,” Doyoung says, their breath mingling together. Jaehyun can still taste Doyoung’s skin on his tongue. “I wanna show you something.”

“What is it, baby?”

Doyoung curls his hands around Jaehyun’s neck. “You know what they say about piano players. We’re good with our fingers.”

  
  


The book is a success. Jaehyun almost cries when he gets his first royalty check in the mail. He had never seen that many zeros in his life. Everyone was talking about it, and all of Jaehyun’s friends threw him a wild party to celebrate. There were even discussions about possible movie deals. Throughout the entire process, Doyoung is at Jaehyun’s side, experiencing it all.

Jaehyun makes enough money to move them to a new apartment. It’s big, with huge windows that overlook the city and a classy interior filled with modern furniture and clean lines. “Here, let me help.” Jaehyun says, grabbing onto the box of sheet music Doyoung is struggling to bring into the elevator.

“No.” Doyoung says sternly and yanks away the box, “I got it.”

“No it’s fine, I insist.”

“Seriously,” Doyoung snaps, “I don’t need help.”

“Oh.” Jaehyun looks down. The elevator ride is awkward and silent.

“I’m sorry,” Doyoung says, setting the box down next to the brand new white Yamaha piano Jaehyun bought Doyoung, “I’m stressed because of the move.”

“Yeah,” Jaehyun says quietly. Doyoung tugs at the edge of his sweater. It’s worn around the edges, and the faded lilac looks out of place amid the white and black color palette of the new apartment. “Do you want a new sweater?”

Doyoung’s eyes harden, “no, I don’t.”

  
  


Jaehyun showers Doyoung with gifts. He finally has enough money to do so, and he takes advantage of it every time. Doyoung smiles weakly whenever Jaehyun hands him an expensive item of clothing or jewelry, and tucks it into the back of his drawer. Jaehyun is confused, why doesn’t Doyoung appreciate his gifts?

Doyoung is in the kitchen, bundled in one of Jaehyun’s old college sweatshirts and a pair of Jaehyun’s sweatpants. “Morning, Jae.” He says and nudges over a cup of tea. Jaehyun thanks him and sips the peppermint tea, wincing when it burns his tongue.

“Doie,”

“What’s up?” Doyoung asks, flipping through the morning paper.

“Why don’t you ever use the things I buy you?” Doyoung freezes, the paper swishing in the air.

“I-”

“Do you not like them? Should I get you something else-”

“No!” Doyoung says loudly, “I mean, please don’t.” He looks around the apartment, “I-I like the gifts.”

“Then why don’t I ever see you using them?”

“This was a gift,” Doyoung says, and points at his sweatshirt.

“From literally a year ago!” Jaehyun exclaims and slams down the mug of tea, ignoring how Doyoung flinches. “I spend a lot of money on your gifts and-”

“Exactly!” Doyoung says finally, “too much money!”

Jaehyun steps back, shocked. “What do you mean?”

“Relationships are supposed to be equal Jaehyun. This,” Doyoung gestures wildly at the apartment, at everything. “This isn’t equal.”

“But-”

“I hate it when you spend money on me, it makes me feel like I’m just depending on you for everything and-” Doyoung slumps against the counter, “-and I feel useless.”

“Doyoung,” Jaehyun says softly, reaching for him. Doyoung jerks backwards.

“I miss the days when it was just you and I in your crappy apartment, when you were writing instead of discussing brand deals, when I was playing on my crappy Yamaha I found at a thrift store, when the biggest gift you would get me was a bouquet of those little purple flowers.”

“Heliotropes,” Jaehyun says before he can help himself.

“Now—now it’s like I’m just here to sit here and do nothing. And I hate it. Let’s be real, I’m not making any money right now, it’s all you. I’ve never been more reliant on someone, and it’s like I have no purpose. My entire life, my dreams, they’re futile.” Doyoung says quietly, holding his head in his hands. “Please stop getting me those expensive gifts. It makes me feel like nothing.”

Jaehyun shudders, “I’m so sorry Doyoung, I never knew how you felt, I’ll do everything I can to make you feel better. I just wanted to show my love for you.”

“I know,” Doyoung says, looking up at Jaehyun and smiling weakly. “But you don’t have to do all this to do it.”

Later that day, Doyoung leaves to go grab coffee and Jaehyun makes a call. “Johnny,” he says to an old friend quietly, “do you still run that concert hall?” After getting the answer he needed, he calls up another number. “Hello, is this Huang’s Flower Shop?”

Doyoung returns to hundreds of bouquets of heliotropes on every surface of their apartment. Jaehyun is standing in the middle of it, “they represent eternal love.”

Jaehyun pretends to not notice how tired Doyoung’s eyes seem. “I know.”

He also pretends to not notice the absence of Doyoung’s smile in their kiss.

  
  


Jaehyun hears a scream, and he rushes into the living room where Doyoung is standing, staring aghast at his phone. “What is it?”

Doyoung looks over at Jaehyun, eyes wide. “The Seo Concert Hall just called me.”

Jaehyun couldn’t stop the smile from growing on his face. “And?”

“They want me to perform a piece, they said they found me while looking through the staff at the community college I work at, oh my god Jaehyun! I’m going to play piano at the Seo Concert Hall!”

“That’s so amazing!” Jaehyun says and opens his arm, wrapping them around Doyoung’s frame. His shoulders shake as he sobs into Jaehyun’s chest.

“I did it,” Doyoung says, tears in his eyes, “I did it all by myself.”

Jaehyun’s stomach dropped, “you did, darling. You did it all by yourself.”

  
  


The night of Doyoung’s concert goes off without a hitch. He’s ecstatic up on stage, and Jaehyun can’t help but tear up at the sight of his joy. Doyoung plays Chopin’s prelude in E minor and Jaehyun let’s the tears fall freely. As he’s bowing, the crowd gives him a standing ovation, and Jaehyun sneaks away toward the back, bouquet in hand.

“Johnny!” Jaehyun calls backstage, and he sees the concert hall owner turn, giving Jaehyun a lazy grin.

“Jung Jaehyun, in the flesh! What’s up?”

“Nothing really, I’m here to support Doyoung.”

“Oh shut up,” Johnny says, his casual demeanor juxtapositioning against his black suit. “I heard you may have written a hit book.”

“Maybe,” Jaehyun flushes, “how are you and Taeil?”

“We’ve been good, Taeil is thinking about adopting a dog and I’m all for it.”

“That’s cute,” Jaehyun says. Johnny looks down at the flowers in Jaehyun’s hands.

“Are those for Doyoung?”

“Yeah,” Jaehyun says shyly.

“He’s a catch,” Johnny smiles, “you might want to put a ring on that one before you lose him.”

“I’m planning on it,” Jaehyun grins. “But I just wanted to thank you, for allowing Doyoung to play here.”

“No problem, anything for a friend.” In hindsight, Jaehyun should have been more careful. But he wasn’t.

Jaehyun grins at Johnny and turns, his smile dropping when he sees Doyoung standing there. Doyoung looks at Jaehyun, the expression in his eyes something that Jaehyun thought he would never see. It’s a look of betrayal, of shock, of anger, of sorrow. It’s heartbroken. Doyoung turns around and bolts.

“Doyoung!” Jaehyun says, dropping the bouquet and running after him. The heliotropes fall to the floor, delicate purple blooms being crushed.

Jaehyun frantically searches everywhere for Doyoung, before hours later, he reappears in the now empty concert hall. Jaehyun had been searching backstage when Doyoung walks back in, sitting down at the piano. Doyoung’s face seems puffy and Jaehyun can see the tear tracks on his face. He sits down gingerly in the spot where just hours ago, Doyoung stood while people cheered and gave him a standing ovation. Then he plays. It’s Chopin, like how it almost always is, but this time Jaehyun feels the way Doyoung pours raw emotion into the melancholic piece, the minor notes settling into the air. He waits until Doyoung’s done to approach him, and silently lead him to the car. 

“I love you,” Jaehyun whispers.

“I know.”

Jaehyun ignores the pain in his chest.

  
  


After the concert, things change. They’re dancing around each other, silently suffocating in the apartment. When they do talk, it results in harsh arguments that leads to one of them sleeping on the couch. The next morning, they haphazardly make up while sweeping all of their issues under the rug. Afterwards, things are good for a few days, perfect even.

Doyoung and Jaehyun make cupcakes in the kitchen, laughing and throwing batter at each other.

Jaehyun comes home with a bouquet of heliotropes and Doyoung plays Chopin.

They get into a small argument about Ten coming over that turns into Doyoung and Jaehyun unleashing their problems onto each other.

Jaehyun sleeps on the couch.

The night after one of their better days, consisting of Doyoung and Jaehyun working on sheet music and a new novel, respectively, they can almost pretend everything is normal again. That they’re back in Jaehyun’s shitty apartment, without a care in the world. They sleep in the same bed, but Jaehyun still feels the distance between them like it’s miles.

Doyoung’s breathing had evened out, and the moon was shining high, enveloping Jaehyun’s room in dark blue light. He stares at the ceiling, and his throat feels heavy. “Our relationship fell apart at some point.” He whispers, “why didn’t we see it coming? Why didn’t I know?” Jaehyun turns over onto his side, away from Doyoung.

Minutes later, Jaehyun is about to fall asleep when he hears Doyoung. “I knew,” the pianist whispers.

Silence engulfs them again. In the same bed, the foot between them feels like an ocean. Jaehyun blinks back tears and wonders if Doyoung is doing the same.

His throat hurts.

  
  


He should have seen it coming.

There’s a note, but that’s all. The only other thing that signifies that Doyoung ever lived in the apartment at all was the pristine white grand piano. Jaehyun walks around his apartment numbly, feeling the impact of Doyoung’s departure with every missing item. His toothbrush is gone, the piles of sheet music are no longer. The dresser is completely empty. When Jaehyun finishes searching every room, growing more and more frantic, and finding no sign of Doyoung even stepping foot into his apartment, Jaehyun collapses down onto the floor, watching the tears drop onto the floor.

_ Dear Jaehyun,  _ the note had read.

_ I’m sorry but I don’t think I can do this anymore. It’s nothing you did, I just can’t live everyday knowing that nothing I’ve ever done has amounted to anything, and I can’t be reminded of that anymore. Thank you for everything, I’m sorry for being a burden for all these years. I will always love you. _

_ Doyoung _

Jaehyun crumples the note in an angry fist, hunching over and leaning against the door for support.  _ Doyoung is lying _ . Jaehyun thinks.  _ He doesn’t love me. He hasn’t for a long time _ .

His chest burns and Jaehyun isn’t even surprised.  _ If he loved me, this wouldn’t be happening _ . Jaehyun looks at the mess on the ground, the crushed soft purple petals of heliotropes, covered with blood.

Jaehyun laughs, the delicate petals spilling from his mouth as his body shakes and he coughs violently. “Heliotropes,” he says bitterly, “they mean eternal love.” 

  
  


“The clinic is still an option,” Taeyong tells Jaehyun every time he comes to visit.

Everytime he says that, Jaehyun shakes his head. Taeyong has long since given up on him, and always leaves with a sad look in his eyes, afraid that it will be the last.

Jaehyun refuses to go to the clinic. Going to the clinic means forgetting Doyoung, it means calling their entire relationship a mistake.

It wasn’t. And it never will be.

Jaehyun lives and breathes, with the knowledge that Kim Doyoung is and always will be the love of his life.

Alone in a lavious apartment that’s too big for him, Jaehyun exists, surrounded by a bed of blood-stained flowers.

**Author's Note:**

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